


He Holds The Stars

by TeriTheTacticalUnicorn



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Daedra (Elder Scrolls), F/M, Family Secrets, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Memory Alteration, Modern Girl in Skyrim, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Civil War, Rating: M, References to Depression, Safe Haven, Stargazing, Stars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29612490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeriTheTacticalUnicorn/pseuds/TeriTheTacticalUnicorn
Summary: Kleo Van Housen flees her almost wedding and lives free from her family and the Papo's clutches for eight months. What she doesn't know is her fate is in the hands of a Daedric Prince, and she's destined to someone who doesn't exist in her reality.
Relationships: Balgruuf the Greater/Original Character(s), Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Muiri, Nazir (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	He Holds The Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely self-indulgent trash but I'm ok with that.

_ He holds the stars in one hand, and my heart in the other.  _

  
  


Kleo Van Housen looked in the full length mirror in her childhood home. The four story mansion in the Hamptons, the prison she had never been able to escape. And now she was marrying someone she didn't like, let alone love. The white, strapless sweetheart neckline princess wedding gown felt like trading one set of handcuffs for another. 

Her chocolate curls dyed bleach blonde because Dylan hated brunettes. Her skin scrubbed, waxed, polished. Her nails, bit down to the edge of her fingers, covered with sharp, fake nails painted silver. And the six carat Harry Winston on her left hand would drown her if she walked into any body of water. She told her parents she didn't want this. She wanted to go to Russia, England, Scotland. Kleo wanted to climb Mount Everest just to say she'd done it. She didn't want to marry Dylan Von Asshat from Italy. 

But the daughter of a Mob Boss didn't get to choose. Her life was planned out for her. She'd marry Dylan, live in exquisite torture and give him children. That was her lot in life. 

Or so Kleo thought… until she heard gunshots from the back of the house. Now was her time to escape. To be free of the shackles that bound her in these chains. 

Without thinking, Kleo grabbed a backpack, ignoring the pile of perfectly packed luggage sitting at the end of her bed. Her mom hadn't packed up Kleo's casual clothes. She shoved jeans, t-shirts, sweats, and a couple hoodies along with underwear and socks before looking at her phone and debating a moment before leaving it on the nightstand on the charger.

Pulling the veil out of her braided bun and kicking off the ridiculous stilettos, Kleo grabbed her well-worn converse before padding down the back stairs silently, stealing into the eight car garage. Bypassing the three big black SUVs she knew had location tracking in them, she stopped in front of her Dad's 1973 Chevelle. Kleo argued with herself for a moment before plucking the keys from the glass case on the back wall.

She was gone before the last body fell. Pulling out of the drive, Kleo saw her dad, brother, and Dylan running out of the house. She waved as she sped away from the house, her family, and New York. 

******

Jarl Balgruuf woke in a cold sweat. What a strange dream. And what was she wearing? It was like nothing he'd ever seen. White gossamer that started at her midsection and flowed to the ground. Her hair is almost white and pinned with diamonds. He'd also never seen such a perfectly proportioned face in his thirty years. 

She had a rounded face and sharp chin. There were no laugh lines, not a single blemish on her pale skin. Her eyes, reminiscent of the Sea of Ghosts, set above a small nose, and perfectly plump, pouty lips. She looked like some kind of princess. 

He looked down at his youngest child, nestled in his arms and kissed her forehead. Dagny had never known her mother, Elsie had died giving birth to her six years ago. 

Balgruuf knew he spoiled his children. It wasn't as if it wasn't evident in their behavior. And the Dragonborn had given him a solid tongue lashing when Frothar kicked the man in the shin during one of his visits. Balgruuf didn't know how to discipline his children for their behavior. He would have to make changes, and soon. 

His children needed a mother, and he, a Jarlessa. But there was only this mysterious woman on his mind. The one with the halo hair and pouty lips…

******

It was moments like this that Kleo lived for. She stood in front of the Hostel in London and just felt the rain on her face and smiled in her freedom. Her hair was once again is natural chocolate brown, she wore leggings and a sweater that was too big and a new pair of converse. Knowing that the only paper trail she left was at her father's bank when she took three million dollars out of her trust fund. It would have just gone to Dylan if she hadn't. She left her Dad's car in the alley behind the bank, and bought a beat up pickup truck. 

Kleo drove that beat up Chevy all the way to Seattle before getting on a plane to London. And she'd been here now for almost eight months. 

But the rain suddenly stopped and the city traffic ebbed out. When she opened her eyes, adjusting the travel pack she had bought and realized she was standing in the woods. The confusion on her face for no one to see as she scanned the woods around her. 

Kleo walked. And walked. Until she found a road paved with haphazardly placed stones. It wasn't until she was almost run over by a wooden cart pulled by a giant horse did she question it. "Oi! Watch where yer walking lass!" The man had stopped, helped her up and then took in her clothes. "Come, lass. I'll take ya to Whiterun." He said without her asking. Did she really look that desperate? 

"Um… I'm Kleo. Thank you." She said as he hoisted her pack into the back of the cart and then offered her a hand up. 

"No problem. Where ya from lass? Them clothes and that accent, dunno where them's from." The man asked as the cart started to move again.

"I-I can't remember. " Kleo couldn't find the words  _ New York _ or  _ London _ in her mind. Had she hit her head? She really couldn't remember. 

Kleo learned the man's name was Gregor Stone-Arm. He carried a giant axe, and had a pile of armor made from some kind of heavy bone under an animal fur in his cart as well as barrels full of food, jewels, and things to sell in Whiterun. He had a small house there called Breezehome and she'd be welcome to stay there with his wife, Muiri, and their three year old daughter. Kleo tried to argue, saying she didn't want to put them out. "Muiri could use the company. She's a merchant in the square and doesn't leave Whiterun much. I travel a lot to make coin so my family can have everything they desire. I am also trying to rid Skyrim of the Dragon threat." He explained, but Kleo was too tired to comprehend. 

It took two days to make it to Whiterun, and they had stopped in a place called Riverwood to get Kleo some clothes. She now wore elk hide leggings, a white cotton shirt with long sleeves folded to her elbows, and cinched at her tiny waist by a new dagger belt with a steel dagger at her side, and a pair of leather gloves. the clothes were warm, but she felt embarrassed having Camilla help her put a breastband on over her ample chest. 

She cursed her mother for this. She had forced Kleo to get a boob job when she turned eighteen. Apparently B cups hadn't been desirable and they had to be D cups. Camilla had, thankfully, not asked about the scars under Kleo's breasts. Or the one on her abdomen when her Twin brother Clark had needed a Kidney. Hopefully she assumed she'd been in some sort of fight and thought they'd been battle scars.

With her new traveling pack made of bearskin with the fur attached, a new tent and bedroll, they left Riverwood and had been at the Whiterun stables an hour or so later. 

Muiri was a sweet, young woman. Maybe only a year older than Kleo, who had just turned twenty-two. Their daughter, Alowen, was rambunctious and sweet. 

The next morning, Muiri told Kleo she'd pay her to help with the upkeep of the house and helping at the stall. "Muiri, you and your husband are letting me stay in your home. Of course I'll help." Kleo said, smiling as she handed Alowen, who in the short night she'd been in Breezehome, nicknamed Allie, a piece of bread as she balanced the toddler on one knee. 

"If anyone asks, just tell them you're the Dragonborn's cousin from Bruma. They won't question why you're in Whiterun or Skyrim if they think you're Gregor's cousin." Muiri put her hands on Kleo's arms and rubbed when she saw the panic in the girl's eyes. "Hey, it's alright, Kleo. You're safe here. I believe your story and so does Gregor. You're under the protection of, arguably, the most powerful man in all of Skyrim who isn't a Jarl." Muiri smiled and hugged Kleo.

"Thanks Muiri. What's a Jarl?" Kleo asked and that made Muiri laugh. 

"Not at all a problem,  _ cousin _ . And you might see the Jarl of Whiterun in the market today. It's Fredas, he brings his children to the market today. Poor children's mother passed near seven years past, so he let's them spend a day outside of Dragonsreach." she didn't see the Jarl, or he wasn't pointed out to her.

  
  


Two weeks later, Kleo carried Allie in one arm and a bag of goods over her shoulder as a boy nearly barreled them over. "Slow down kid." She said as the boy stopped for only a moment and sneered.

"Go lick my father's boots, commoner!" The boy shot back before returning to his full blown sprint. Muiri shook her head.

"Frothar, the Jarl's eldest. He is ten and three. Right foul, that one. But Balgruuf doesn't have time to keep his people safe and teach his heir manners." Muiri said, rolling a handcart towards the square. 

When Balgruuf saw a woman who looked similar to the one he dreamed of, he had to do a double take. He had never seen this woman in Whiterun before. And she was sitting on a barrel, talking animatedly with Muiri, the wife of the Dragonborn, behind her stall. His children had gone off to play, so he approached Muiri's stall with a frog in his throat as she laughed. It was a beautiful sound.

"Ah, my Jarl! What can we interest ya in today?'' Muiri asked as the man in a dress and a circlet around his forehead, nearly hidden by shaggy blonde hair, stood looking at some of the jewelry. 

"Who's this, then? I have not seen you in the market before." He asked, looking at Kleo.

"This is Kleo Daggerheart. She's Gregor's cousin from Bruma and staying with myself and the Dragonborn." Muiri beamed and Kleo smiled, holding a gloved hand out.

"Wonderful to meet you, Jarl Balgruuf." Kleo said as he shook her hand. He was studying her face, her long, dark curls half-pinned away from her familiar feature, she had a smear of charcoal on one cheek from tending the fire earlier. 

This wasn't the woman with the white-blonde hair that looked like she'd never seen an honest day's work. She had on work clothes, the sleeves cut away from the arms for the warmer weather. Hands covered in leather gloves and breeches that made her behind look very nice. 

The Jarl let Muiri talk him into some handmade toys for his daughter. A carved doll set, and ordered a dollhouse as well. "I'll have it to Dragonsreach in a month, Balgruuf." Kleo smiled, and wrote down his order, thankful her dad had taught her to make her own dolls and dollhouses as a kid. She never thought she'd use it. 

Kleo was thankful to be useful in this strange world she found herself in. Finding her place among a found family, and a best friend in Muiri. This felt like home. 


End file.
